


turn the world to gold

by sundays



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Financial Issues, Hitchhiker AU, Hitchhiking, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-25 17:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundays/pseuds/sundays
Summary: Hitchhiker!AU, in which Eduardo stops at a gas station and meets a scruffy, curly-haired guy who needs a ride.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully you're not sick of various random au's where mark is poor, lol, because they're my fave. 
> 
> **story notes:** the new jersey turnpike is a 122-mile highway that diagonally bisects the state of new jersey (and connects new york to pennsylvania). it has twelve service stations along it, each named after a famous person from new jersey history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: none. and the M rating is for later chapters.

On Eduardo's first day as a summer intern at Lehman Brothers, the first thing that the CFO's executive assistant does is inform him that he only got the position because his father pulled some strings.

The second thing she does is send him to take a company car and drive two hours to Philadelphia, where he's supposed to pick up a custom-made plaque for the CFO's office. Because apparently, the CFO is too impatient to wait a few days for the plaque to be shipped to New York.

"Save your receipts for gas and tolls," the lady tells him. "You'll file an expense report and get refunded."

Eduardo stares at her.

"Is there a problem?" she asks.

"No," says Eduardo. He pauses. "I— I didn't know my father pulled strings for me; I didn't ask him to," he mumbles then, touching his tie nervously.

The lady rolls her eyes and hands him a page of directions from MapQuest. "He wants you back before noon," is all she says. "You'd better get going."

And okay, thinks Eduardo. Whatever. He can put up with being treated like crap.

So he sets his jaw, and nods, and gets going.

***

The drive on the New Jersey turnpike gets more scenic as he goes, with the surroundings transforming from urban sprawl and industrial plants to grass and densely-packed trees.

After driving for an hour, he has to stop for gas, so he exits the highway at Molly Pitcher Service Station, a little complex of parking lots, fast-food restaurants, and a Sunoco gas station. It's kind of cute, he thinks. A bit run-down, perhaps, but quaint.

He's in the middle of paying for his gas when a guy approaches him— a youngish guy, with curly brown hair and a ratty blue hoodie and his hands shoved in the pockets of his cargo shorts. He looks like he could use a shower and a decent meal, so Eduardo assumes he's going to ask for money.

But he doesn't. He looks Eduardo up and down and observes, tonelessly, "Your license plates are from New York."

"Uh—" Eduardo frowns. "Yeah?"

"So you're driving down the turnpike."

"Yeah, I'm going to Philadelphia," Eduardo says, then regrets it, as it occurs to him that maybe telling a total stranger where he's headed is not the best idea.

The guy nods. They stare at each other for a moment.

Then the guy asks, very casually, "Can I ride with you?"

_Oh_. So he's hitchhiking. Instantly, Eduardo's mind is flooded with every hitchhiker horror story he's ever been told, every caution he's ever heard to never, under any circumstances, let a stranger into his car.

"Um," Eduardo says. "No, I'm sorry, I don't think, uh— I mean, I'm on company business, so I don't really feel comfortable..."

"Would you feel more comfortable if I gave you a blowjob?" asks the guy. He licks his lips then, like he knows exactly what he's doing, and Jesus, Eduardo feels his dick getting hard.

He blushes fiercely. "No. Uh. No, I think, uh, I think I'd actually be less... comfortable. With that. Sorry," he stammers, looking down.

"Okay," says the guy, nonchalantly. "Your loss."

And he walks away. 

Eduardo watches him go, watches him trudge over to a black SUV at the other end of the gas station and tap on the passenger window. 

Then Eduardo finishes pumping his gas, still watching out of the corner of his eye, watching as the guy gets into the car and the car backs out and drives off in the direction of the turnpike.

It makes Eduardo uncomfortable, somehow, to know that the guy got a ride with someone else. He wonders if he'd offered that other driver a blowjob too, and the thought makes Eduardo feel strangely— jealous? Possessive? Protective?

He should have said yes, he decides, as he uses the service station's restroom. He definitely should have said yes, should have just given the guy a fucking ride, or at least given him money; he'd clearly needed money...

Eduardo gets back to his car and sits there for a while, feeling like shit, thinking of the guy, of his curls and cheekbones and stormy blue eyes.

Then he pushes the guy from his mind, and starts his engine, and leaves the service station.

***

He hasn't been back on the turnpike for long before he sees someone standing on the grass by the side of the road, a few hundred feet ahead of him, holding out a thumb.

It's the guy, he realizes with a jolt as he gets nearer. It's the hitchhiker from the gas station.

So Eduardo pulls over to the shoulder of the highway, rolls down the passenger-side window.

"Hey," he calls. "You alright?"

The guy walks over to Eduardo's car and leans into the window. "Hey," he says tiredly.

And Jesus Christ. His lip is split, his nose is bleeding, and there's a purple bruise forming around his left eye.

"Shit," says Eduardo. "What happened to you?"

The guy just shrugs, and wipes at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Eduardo hesitates, and then: "You still need a ride?" he asks.

"Yes."

Eduardo nods. "Okay," he says decisively, unlocking the door. "Get in."

And the guy gets in. He takes off his backpack, which is grungy and badly worn out, and holds it tightly to his chest as he sits. He buckles his seatbelt and glances at Eduardo, opens his mouth like he wants to say something. But then the moment passes, and he looks away, and starts to fiddle with a zipper on his backpack.

Eduardo pulls back onto the highway, and wonders, vaguely, what he's gotten himself into. "I'm Eduardo," he offers.

There's a beat.

"Mark," says the guy.

"And... where are you headed?" asks Eduardo.

Mark is quiet for a moment. Then he shrugs, and clutches his backpack even tighter, and says, with resolve: "I'm headed west."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> this fic is chaptered but i've already written most of it and it won't be extremely long— maybe like four or five chapters? with short chapters.
> 
> anyway, please, please let me know your thoughts in a comment!!!! i will seriously love any comment. more to come soon. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** mentions of prostitution

"How's your face?" asks Eduardo as they drive. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really," says Mark. He's staring out the window. "It was my own fault," he adds after a moment, shrugging. "The guy was being an asshole so I made, um, a disparaging comment about his dick size. That was stupid of me." He shrugs again. "At least he didn't pull a gun or anything. Just punched me in the face and kicked me out."

Eduardo frowns. "Has someone pulled a gun on you before?"

"Not while I was hitchhiking," says Mark, which isn't quite an answer, and Eduardo feels a rush of concern. 

He wonders what kind of life Mark's been living, what kind of people he's been dealing with. Wonders how long he's been hitching rides, how often he antagonizes drivers and puts himself in harm's way.

Then he sighs. "I should've let you ride with me from the start," he tells Mark. "I don't know why I said no. I was just— I mean, they always say not to pick up hitchhikers, right? So obviously I was hesitant, but. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Mark says. And then, with no warning, "Would you pay," he asks, "to fuck me?"

Eduardo swerves inadvertently on the road. "What?"

"Would you pay to fuck me," Mark repeats. "Or to get fucked; I could do that too."

"No," says Eduardo. "I don't— I mean. Wouldn't that be almost like prostitution or something?"

"It would _be_ prostitution," Mark corrects him. There's a pause. "A hundred dollars?"

"No," Eduardo says weakly. "I'm sorry, I just..." He can feel his cheeks flushing, but he keeps his eyes glued on the road ahead, and tries not to imagine Mark beneath him, Eduardo inside him, Mark crying out for more, deeper—

"Okay, what about just the money?" Mark asks. He sounds hesitant. "Could you give me some? Maybe twenty bucks? Or even ten?"

Eduardo nods slowly. Money is good. He can do money. "Yeah," he says. "Jesus, yeah, you can have whatever's in my wallet; it should be a couple hundred dollars, I think."

"A _couple hundred_ dollars?" Mark echoes. "Are you shitting me?"

"No, I'm sure you need it more than I do," says Eduardo.

"I—" starts Mark, like he's about to protest but then thinks better of it. "Shit."

"It's no problem," Eduardo assures him. "Don't worry."

"Shit," Mark repeats, sounding awed.

Eduardo doesn't know what more to say, so they drive in silence for a while.

Then Mark speaks. "My laptop's broken," he says, quietly. "That fucking asshole driver, the one who kicked me out, he threw my backpack out after me and it landed, like, really fucking hard. With my laptop in there." He sighs. "That's why I need money. To get it fixed. 'Cause it had all my shit on it, everything I've been working on for the past year and a half, and now it won't even turn on; it just makes this clicking noise, which means the hard drive is damaged."

"I'm sure you'll be able to get it repaired," Eduardo says.

"I was going to California, to Palo Alto, to show them this— this website I've made," Mark goes on. "I need people to see it. Like, important Silicon Valley people. But if all my files are lost—" Mark sniffs, and Eduardo looks over to see him rubbing furtively at his eyes before continuing: "If my files are lost, I'm fucked, because I'd have to start over, and I can't afford a new laptop." Mark pulls his backpack closer, rests his chin on it. "Shit, most days I can barely afford food."

Eduardo wishes, fleetingly, that he could give Mark a hug. Instead, he says, "Oh, are— are you hungry?"

"Yeah?" Mark says cautiously.

"How about when we get to the next rest stop, we get something to eat?" Eduardo suggests.

Mark hesitates a moment. Then he shrugs. "Okay."

Eduardo glances over, and Mark smiles a little, not so much that his split lip starts to bleed again, but enough that Eduardo feels his stomach flip over.

He fixes his eyes on the road, his heart pounding, and thinks of how he'd kiss Mark if he weren't driving right now, how he'd cradle his bruised cheek and pull him close and kiss him softly, tenderly. He imagines Mark melting in his arms and kissing back, imagines the kiss becoming more passionate, more desperate—

_Richard Stockton Service Area, 1 Mile_, reads a large blue sign on the side of the road, and Eduardo is jerked from his thoughts. He looks over at Mark, who's staring at him shrewdly.

Eduardo blushes, merges into the right lane, and drives till he reaches the offramp, wondering if Mark could guess what he was thinking.

***

Eduardo gets his answer at the service station. 

He parks in front of the Burger King, and they both step out of the car. It's already past 10 AM, so he'll definitely be late getting back New York, but he finds that he doesn't give a fuck.

They're almost to the door when Mark grabs Eduardo's arm. "Wait," he says.

Eduardo comes to a stop, turns to face Mark.

And Mark kisses him. 

Kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, then pulls away gently. "Is that what you wanted?" he asks, his eyes alight.

"Yes," breathes Eduardo. "That was very much what I wanted."

"Good," says Mark. "Me too."

So they kiss again, just for good measure.

And then they enter the Burger King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!!! if you leave a comment it will utterly make my day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** vomiting

Eduardo picks at his onion rings and watches as Mark devours a Whopper, six chicken nuggets, and a large order of fries.

He almost asks Mark how long it's been since he's eaten, then decides that maybe that would be rude.

"Where are you from?" he asks instead, conversationally.

"Long Island."

Eduardo nods. "I'm from Miami. Well, technically I'm from Brazil, but my family moved to Florida when I was a kid. And then I go to college in Massachusetts. But I have a summer internship in New York."

"Fancy," says Mark, like he couldn't care less.

Eduardo snorts. "Not really. It's my first day, and so far they've basically just treated me like a lackey who doesn't deserve to be there."

"Do you?" asks Mark.

"Do I what?"

"Do you deserve to be there?"

The question throws Eduardo. "Um... I don't know," he says. He picks up an onion ring and stares at it, sighs. "Apparently my father pulled strings to get me the position, so maybe not."

Mark looks contemplative. "Fascinating," he says. "What's it like to have a dad who gives a shit about you?"

"He doesn't, actually," admits Eduardo. "He hates me. Sees me as a failure."

"Oh," says Mark, chewing on his last chicken nugget. "Sucks."

"Yeah."

There's a pause. Mark swallows. "My dad hated me too," he offers then. "He kicked me out when I turned eighteen."

"I'm sorry," Eduardo says softly.

Mark shrugs, then freezes, and something like horror comes over his face.

"What's wrong?" asks Eduardo.

Mark says nothing, just presses his hand to his mouth, stands up, and rushes to the trash can by the door. He leans over it and vomits, coughs, vomits again.

People around the restaurant look up at the sound, stare at Mark in disgust. Eduardo wants to tell them to mind their own fucking business.

Mark stands there by the door for a while, braced against the trash can, his shoulders heaving under his backpack.

Then, shakily, he returns to the table and sits back down across from Eduardo. He stares into his lap, obviously ashamed.

People are still staring, but fuck them.

Eduardo hands Mark a napkin. "Are you okay?" he asks quietly.

Mark nods, wiping his mouth with the napkin. "I just ate too much," he says, his eyes trained downward. "It was stupid; I should have known better."

"You hadn't... eaten in a while, huh?" infers Eduardo.

Mark shrugs. "I've _eaten_," he says. "Just. Mainly a lot of shit from vending machines." He shrugs again. "It's cheaper than actual food."

"So I guess... the burger and nuggets and fries were kind of a shock to your system."

Mark says nothing.

"You want to get something else?" Eduardo asks gently. "There's a Quiznos next door; I'm sure they have soup or something. That might be easier on your stomach?"

Mark shakes his head, and prods with a finger at the few remaining French fries on his tray. "I already wasted a bunch of your money."

It's a statement so ridiculous that Eduardo might laugh, if it weren't so fucking sad. "Mark. Your whole meal cost like six dollars," he says. "It's fine."

Mark lifts his eyes at that, and seems to think for a moment. Then he nods, haltingly. "Alright," he says.

"Alright," repeats Eduardo, with a smile that he hopes is reassuring. "Let's go then."

***

So they go to the Quiznos, and Mark gets a cup of the broccoli cheese soup.

They sit outside this time, at a little metal table with rickety metal chairs, and Mark begins to eat, methodically, silently.

Eduardo watches for a bit, trying to think of something to say to lighten the mood. "So what do you like about hitchhiking?" he lands on at last.

"Nothing," says Mark.

"Oh." Eduardo hesitates. So much for lightening the mood. "Have you been doing it for a while, or...?"

"A week," Mark says. "And I've barely gone a hundred fucking miles." He stirs his soup and gives a weary sort of shrug. "But whatever, it's not like I have another choice; I can't afford a plane or a bus, so."

Eduardo nods slowly, and neither of them speak for a minute.

Then, before he can help himself, "Do you always offer blowjobs to the drivers?" Eduardo blurts out. He feels bad about it instantly.

But Mark seems amused by the question. "No," he says, smiling. "Only if they're hot."

Eduardo feels himself flush. "How often are, um— are they hot?" he stammers.

"Never," says Mark. "You were the first." 

Eduardo stares.

Mark's smile grows mischievous. "The offer's still on the table, by the way," he says, shrugging easily, as he takes a bite of soup.

"The— wait, you mean... the blowjob... offer?"

Mark nods.

Eduardo looks away, unsure how to respond, but his dick, for one, seems very fucking pleased at the idea. "Uh. I mean." He glances at Mark. "You actually want to?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't."

"But it's not just— You don't feel like you owe me or something, right? For the ride or food or money or..." Eduardo frowns. "I mean, because you don't. Owe me. I swear."

Mark scrapes the bottom of the soup cup with his spoon. "I do owe you," he says. "But no, that's not why I want to suck you off."

Eduardo's dick is getting really uncomfortable by now, and he can feel himself sweating in his suit. "I have to go to the bathroom," he mutters.

Mark lifts an eyebrow.

Eduardo ignores him, just stands up, re-enters the Quiznos, and locks himself in the single-room bathroom, where he jerks off as quickly as he can, imagining Mark's perfect fucking lips around his cock.

When he gets back outside, Mark is finished with his soup. He looks up expectantly.

Eduardo just stands there, twisting his hands. "Later," he proclaims at last. "When we get to Philadelphia. Then you can, um." He lowers his eyes. 

Mark laughs, and stands up, and takes Eduardo's hand.

"Deal," he says. And they walk back to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading!!! please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts; i love comments more than life itself.


End file.
